


Between the Sun and the Moon

by Maeryn_skye



Series: The Sun and the Moon [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: And stubborn, Angst, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, John is sad, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3388688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeryn_skye/pseuds/Maeryn_skye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is truly happy for Greg and Sherlock, even when Greg moves into 221 B and they announce their plans to get married. But when John finds out that his daughter isn't his and Mary leaves him, suddenly his world is torn apart and he has no idea where to turn. He longs for the comfort and peace of his old life at Baker Street with Sherlock, but realizes that that life is no longer his. Greg and Sherlock understand this and try to reach out to him. John stubbornly resists because a) that's what John does and b) he's afraid that they'll realize his sadness isn't due to losing Mary, but more to losing his only two friends to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Majesty Requires Your Presence

**Author's Note:**

> So, this fic, although very John-centric, can be seen as a sequel to my other Greg/Sherlock fics. Or at least set in the same arc.

_His Majesty requires your presence at Baker St tonight. 7:00 pm. GL_

_Bleeding hell, when did I turn into his goddamn secretary? Seriously though, John, we would love to see you. Beer and Chinese? We miss you, mate. GL_  

John glanced out the window of his little office. It was only 3:00, but already beginning to get dark. The sky was a dull, leaden colour and sleet and snow had been falling for the last two hours. John was sure it would be even worse by the time he was off at 5:00. The thought of spending an evening like this in the cold, lonely house he and Mary had shared literally turned his stomach. Baker Street had been the only home John had ever known and even just a few hours there basking in the warmth of the fireplace (Greg loved the fireplace and had a blazing fire going every chance he got) and his two best friends was more than John could resist. Anything was better than going back to ... that other place. God, he hated it.

_Sounds great, Greg. Do I need to bring anything? JW_

_Nope, we're good. Looking forward to seeing you! GL_

_Jesus! Sherlock says bring milk. Don't! He can get it himself or do without! He just needs it for an experiment anyway. GL_

_Lol! Tell the big git I'll pick some up IF I REMEMBER! JW_

By the time John got home, he was cold, tired, hungry and thoroughly miserable. He ached, literally ached for the light and warmth of his old flat and his friends' company, but another thought had been niggling at the back of his mind all afternoon. He didn't belong there any more and it really wasn't Greg or Sherlock's responsibility to try to cheer John up. Seeing them together made John happy - how could it not? He'd known for a very long time that the two men loved each other deeply and finally seeing them together and happy warmed John's heart. But a deeper, darker part of John, a part he tried valiantly to ignore, was heartbroken, angry and terrified that he was no longer needed. He felt like they were still keeping in contact with him out of pity rather than any real desire to spend time with him. And that, not the loss of Mary and (not) his daughter, was what had John sinking into the depths of a depression he hadn't felt since he had come back from Afghanistan. He felt like he had given up the best parts of his life - his home, Sherlock, the Work - for something that turned out to be nothing more than a bitter illusion and he had no hope of ever getting back the things that had mattered most to him. He was pathetic and had no right to intrude on their new-found happiness. With a decisive nod, he reached for his phone, intending to text Greg and tell him he was just too tired to make it tonight - maybe another time. Be fore he could begin typing, his phone dinged a text alert.

_Stop thinking, John. I can hear it from here.You should know you're welcome here any time. There's something Greg and I would like to discuss with you. 7:00. SH_

_Please. SH_

With a smile, John sent Sherlock a reply. _How do you even do that?! Fine. I'll be there at 7. But I'm not getting your milk! JW_

Feeling slightly better, John made his way into his bedroom and laid fresh clothes out on the bed, before heading into the shower. By the time he was hailing a cab, John had decided that he was being silly and that he was going to just going to enjoy the evening without letting his own doubts and loneliness overshadow it.


	2. How Does That Even Work?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Sherlock have a favour to ask of John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like John, I'm not even sure how this would work, but it's something I wanted to do and honestly, I can see it being something that Greg and Sherlock would want to do with John as well. And no, unfortunately as promising as it sounds, there's no OT3 sex forthcoming. Not for a while yet, anyway.

As John drew closer to Baker Street, he could feel himself beginning to relax, the knot in his chest loosening. Unfortunately, that all changed again as he stood facing the door, unsure whether to knock or just go on in. Once upon a time, he would have just bounded in and up the steps without a second thought, but now ... again the thought came to him like ice water sliding down his spine ... this was no longer his home. He was here as a guest and as such, he should knock. He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat as he reached for the knocker. Seconds later, he heard Mrs Hudson's footsteps approaching.

"Yes, what can I ...." She gaped at John for a moment before gathering him in for a motherly hug. "John Watson, if you ever knock on this door again, I'll have that lovely detective upstairs arrest you! This will always be your home no matter what!"

John had to fight back tears as he returned the landlady's hug. "Thank you, Mrs Hudson. I'll try to remember that."

She held John back a bit and surveyed his face, for a second looking more like Sherlock than John was comfortable with. "Not been taking care of yourself again. Honestly, John, you're a doctor, you know better than that. Well, get on upstairs. They'll both be so happy to see you. They miss you more than they let on. You understand all about that, I'm sure." She gave John a knowing wink then herded him up the stairs.

"John!" Greg bellowed as he swooped the smaller man up into a bear hug. "Sherlock was afraid you wouldn't come tonight."

"He wasn't going to. I'm glad you changed your mind again, John." The kindness in Sherlock's voice warmed John down to his toes.

"I just don't want to intrude. You two have such little time together, the last thing you need is a third wheel..."

"John, just stop right now. You're not intruding. Actually, that's one of the things ..." Greg was cut off by a knock on the door. "That'll be the food, thank God! I'm starving. Be right back."

Greg bounded down the stairs to retrieve the food. After glancing at Sherlock, still lying motionless and steepled on the sofa, John smiled, sighed and headed into the kitchen to set out plates and silverware. The next few minutes were spent sorting out food, liberating beers from the fridge and settling in comfortably on the sofa to eat. John wondered vaguely why they weren't eating at the kitchen table, then remembered where he was. The sofa, though a tad crowded, was no doubt much less of a health hazard than whatever might be incubating in the kitchen. Besides, by his third beer, John was rather enjoying being pleasantly smushed between the two men. They were both warm and smelled wonderful and John really had missed their company. 

When they had finished eating, John helped Greg clear away the dishes and grabbed another beer out of the fridge. When they returned to the living room, he was completely unsurprised to find that Sherlock had resumed his prior position, stretched out over the length of the sofa. Once upon a time, John would have panicked at the thought of touching Sherlock and would have retreated to the safety of his armchair (still in it's same location by the fireplace, he was gratified to see). Now however, he merely lifted Sherlock's feet and sank onto the end of the sofa, gently lowering the detective's pale, thin and very cold feet back onto his lap.

"Jesus, Sherlock! Your feet are like ice! Why are you not wearing socks?!"

"Uncomfortable, John. Also not necessary." He slid his feet between John's legs and under his left thigh, sending a chill through John. A chill John tried mightily to convince himself was due to the temperature of his feet and not to the fact that they were now nestled between his legs in dangerous proximity to his crotch. 

"So what was it you wanted to ask me?" Without thinking, John let his hands rest on the upper part of Sherlock's feet. In part to warm them and in part to make sure they didn't wander into any more dangerous territory. 

Greg sat down on the other end of the couch, gently lowering Sherlock's head into his lap and petting his hair. "We want you to be our best man. Men. Mans."

"Greg, how much have you had to drink?" Although John was feeling buzzed himself, he was pretty sure Greg was in worse shape than he was. Or maybe not. Greg wasn't making any sense but John couldn't tell if that was because he was more drunk than he thought or if Greg was.

Greg smirked a little bit. "I might have gotten a bit of a head start on you, John. But I'm serious. We want you to be our ... " he waved his hand around vaguely. "...that. We want you to be that for us."

"You want me to be the best man for _both_ of you? How does that even work?"

"Well, we haven't quite figured that part out yet..."

"Obviously, " Sherlock interjected.

Greg took a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts. "The point is, John, we both love you. You're the best friend either of us has ever had and we want you to be up there with us when we get married. We'll figure out how to make it work later."

John felt tears forming in his eyes and rapidly blinked them away. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked up into John's face. "Despite his rather ineloquent, sentimental way of phrasing it, what Greg said is essentially correct. It would mean a great deal to me if you would be willing to do this for us, John."

Again, John blinked back the tears in his eyes. "It would be an honour."


End file.
